


Prettied Up

by Zenniet



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Collars, Dom/sub, Light BDSM, M/M, Master/Pet, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Petplay, bds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: Request: "Cyclonus wearing black lace kitten petplay gear and Tailgate just being amazing and playing with his moody kitty and loving him"From Tumblr





	Prettied Up

Cyclonus was so beautiful, and all for Tailgate. He always carried himself with a measure of intimidating grace, but in the end of things, Tailgate was the only one who could command him on how to act. How to behave, and what to do. And Cyclonus reveled in it.

The purple mech let Tailgate doll him up however he wished. He’d kneel down and let his conjunx decide what to put on him, how to put it on, how far they were going to go. On occasion, Tailgate would stuff his pet’s valve with all sorts of toys, leave a vibrating bullet under his spike cover, simply set him up to see how far he could push his boundaries. Other nights, he was content with putting Cyclonus in a collar and pampering him, feeling his engine purr under his doting touch. Cyclonus like the rules, the punishments, the rewards, the power Tailgate had over him. It was always up to Tailgate what they would be doing for the night.

Tonight was going to be a little bit of both, he decided.

Cyclonus had just woken up from his nap a moment ago, and Tailgate already made up his mind about what he wanted to do,

“Good morning, sleepy head,” It was evening. He smoothed one servo over one of Cyclonus’ horns. His engine rumbled and he pushed up into the touch. “You’re so cute.”

Tailgate hopped off of the berth, his light footsteps sounding out as he went, stepping over to the little toy chest he keeps in the bottom drawer of his dresser. He rummaged around through it, pulling things out and dropping them on the floor behind him. Still just a little drowsy, Cyclonus couldn’t be bothered to sit up enough to really see what Tailgate was taking out. He figured that he’d know soon enough.

The eager little bot was soon returning to the berth, whatever he’d chosen hidden from Cyclonus as he kept his servos behind his back. Only when he was right next to the berth did he show Cyclonus what he had.

His black, lacy collar, the one with the little bow and bell on the front, and a small vibe plug with a fake pink gem on its base. Cyclonus sighed and rolled onto his back, spreading his thighs for Tailgate.

Instead of popping Cyclonus’ panels, however, Tailgate straddled his hips and let his servos feel him up. Tiny white digits mapped Cyclonus’ body, up his chest, dipping into sensitive vents and transformation seams. 

“You’re so pretty,” Tailgate hummed. His servos lingered for a moment longer before drifting down to Cyclonus’ interface array. The larger mech popped his panels instantly, already revved from Tailgate’s praise and his petting. With nothing else, Tailgate shoved the plug into Cyclonus’ valve. He scooted down to get off of Cyclonus’ frame, then laid down next to him.

“D’you wanna get back to sleep? You look tired.” He stated, taking out the remote for the vibrator and turned it on a low setting. A fake yawn and a stretch an Tailgate was pretending to sleep next to Cyclonus, who was biting his lip and trying to decide what to do. 

His servo hovered over Tailgate, before retreating when he decided against touching him. He simply nuzzled up against his master and sighed, breath hot, as he tried to ignore the dull buzz inside of him. Of course, he didn’t last long in his efforts, especially when Tailgate turned up the setting. Soon, he was panting and writhing, Tailgate next to him with his visor  _ almost  _ powered off, but not quite powered so low to the point of not being able to see Cyclonus.

Cyclonus heaved a heavy sigh, shifting in the berth. One servo snaked down his body, not taking much time across his frame before finding his anterior node. His digit tips brushed against it and his vocalizer sang an airy moan.

“Good pets,” Tailgate said, one servo on one of Cyclonus’ horns, “Don’t touch themselves without permission.”

Reluctantly, Cyclonus pulled his servo back and Tailgate responded by taking his servo, smudged with lubricant, and pressing it to Cyclonus’ lips.

“Clean up your mess.”

Blush scored across his face while he obediently took his digits in his mouth, glossa slipping over them and easily cleaning them of his own lubricant. Tailgate held Cyclonus’ face in both hands,

“Such a good boy.”

Cyclonus’ resolve broke in the form of a low whimper and the sound of his spike paneling shifting aside. One of Tailgate’s thumbs stroked against Cyclonus’ cheek, and the other under his chin. 

“My beautiful pet. So elegant but still  _ so _ adorable,” That drew out another whine from Cyclonus, “And you’re aaaaall mine. Nobody else gets to see you like this, my pet.” A buck of his hips had his spike grinding against Tailgate’s thigh, which the minibot had conveniently placed between Cyclonus’ legs. 

With no further urging, Cyclonus was rutting and humping against Tailgate’s thigh, low, halting moans sounding from his vocalizer. His servos held onto his master’s shoulders and his back bowed, trying to get as much force into his hips as he could. The bell on his collar let out its cheerful jingling when ever he moved. It was utterly embarrassing, but it sent pulses of heat through his systems. His vents let out air almost hot enough to be steam and his cooling fans sputtered, all from having Tailgate so close to him. Pay so much attention to him. Despite how humiliating it would be, Cyclonus didn’t mind the idea of overloading across his master’s thigh with a vibrator in his valve.

“Ah ah ah, no overloading yet, cutie.” Tailgate pulled his leg back when he began to feel Cyclonus’ thighs tightening around it and his moans started to become ragged. His visor shone a bright blue over Cyclonus’ features, only highlighting the larger mech’s flushed face and needy expression. Tailgate’s servos reached out and held Cyclonus’ face again, reveling in the heat that his plating carried.

“My big, needy cutie.” Cyclonus could hear the smile in his voice while Tailgate messed with his face and horns. “Do you want me to frag your valve? Or what if I rode your spike?” He asked, shifting his position to sit up in the berth.

Tailgate then swung a leg over Cyclonus’ torso and straddled his body.

“I think I want to do the second one.”

Cyclonus’ hips twitched up in response, making Tailgate jump.

“Okay, big guy, I have some rules,” Tailgate pressed a servo down on Cyclonus’ hip, “No moving. Keep your servos off me.”

White, clawed servos hovered for a moment, before dropping onto the berth, a huff drawing from Cyclonus. Tailgate hummed praise and stroked his horn, doting on him with pet names sprinkled in here and there with his appreciative words. Only when the larger mech was still, almost perfectly still, did Tailgate lift himself up and kneel over his spike. With a quick drop, his valve greedily accepted the whole length.

Cyclonus usually had more self control than most but the sudden feeling of Tailgate’s tight, wet valve engulfing his spike, accompanied by the vibrator still lodged in his own valve, made him powerless to stop his hips driving up to meet his master’s. Tailgate sighed,

“What did I literally just say?” One servo held Cyclonus’ chin in a pinch, pulling his helm to slant down so Tailgate could look him in the optics. The light of his red and Tailgate’s blue cast purple on his cheeks, bright enough to make his plating look gray. His optics were bright and he heard his charge humming in his frame, he knew he couldn’t last much longer if Tailgate kept riding his spike.

Tailgate let his servo come to rest on Cyclonus’ chest, only to pull back when he got a quick zap of static charge. 

“You’re close, aren’t you, kitty?” Tailgate punctuated his words with a roll of his hips that elicited an almost pained gasp from his pet. “I know you want to fill me up, cutie. See how your transfluid makes my belly bulge.”

They both got off on knowing that they had each other, even if they had nobody else. Cyclonus was Tailgate’s and vice versa, and Tailgate exploited that every moment he could. His words both mocked and embraced the way Cyclonus craved to mark Tailgate as his.

Every grind and roll of his hips had Cyclonus’ spike throbbing and his valve bearing down on the small vibrator. Suddenly, Cyclonus’ breath caught in his throat and overload ripped through his systems, taking him by such surprise that his hips leapt off the berth and pushed his spike deep into Tailgate. Hot transfluid gushed from his spike, filling up the minibot easily and pouring out of his valve when there was no more space.

Tailgate cried out at the unexpected feeling and his valve bore down on the spike in it, but he didn’t overload. Not yet. Cyclonus’ climax ebbed, but the vibrator in him kept buzzing, white hot charge leaping through his systems in overstimulation. Tailgate continuing to roll his hips didn’t help, either.

“Nuh-uh! I said no overloading, so that’s going to stay on and I’m going to stay here until you give me an overload.”

Cyclonus’ spike ached and throbbed, but Tailgate’s constant ministrations wouldn’t let it retreat back into it’s housing. It hurt and his frame pulsed with pleasure/pain, but Cyclonus trusted Tailgate and he would give his master what he wanted.

Tailgate’s grinding picked up to a bounce, the mini moaning softly and stroking his own spike as he pulled his pleasure from Cyclonus’ frame. Cyclonus’ legs twitched and he wanted so desperately to reach out and grab at Tailgate’s frame, rub his digits over his transfluid-filled belly, his smooth over his thighs and score light claw marks into the painting his back plating.

It didn’t take long for Tailgate to overload with a cry, dragging a howl from Cyclonus as his valve clenched around his too sensitive spike. Worn out, Tailgate finally turned off the vibrator and lifted himself from the spike. He crept up next to Cyclonus’ shaking frame and picked up one of the mech’s servos, then placed it on his own waist. Cyclonus took the cue and let his servos touch and feel up Tailgate’s frame as he had wanted to earlier.

“How about a bath? Then I can polish you and make you all pretty, then we can get some good rest.” Tailgate pressed his forehead to Cyclonus’. His pet responded with a quick kiss to his faceplate and a gentle, trusting smile.


End file.
